Bottom of the Ocean
by valele
Summary: Answer to my own challenge, I challenged pyrolyn-776. Naitlyn one-shot based on Bottom Of The Ocean


It's been two years. Two whole years, 730 days, 24 months. All that time since you and Nate broke up, yet you still smile when you think of him. It's a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

You dream about him, and when you wake up, all you want to do is go back to sleep. You wonder where he is now, if he ever did all the things he said he was going to do. Most importantly, you hope he's happy.

You wish he hadn't left, that you hadn't said that, that you still talked to him. You miss him, but there's nothing you can do by now. You could move on, but you're afraid of forgetting him, of losing all the memories you have of him. You weren't with him that long. Why do you care so much, then? It was a lousy thing, what he did - yet your relationship wasn't all that great. You fought a lot, big fights with a lot of yelling. You were both stubborn and hot-headed, which is really the worst combination. Why do you miss him so much? You didn't think it would take that long to get over him, but you still haven't forgotten anything, especially that one last fight that ended your relationship and left your heart in pieces.

It all started with an insignificant argument, like it always did. They were usually over soon, but it was different this time. You didn't stop fighting - you just yelled louder and louder, until all you could hear was your yelling and the rest of the world seemed to have stopped moving around you.

Without realizing it, you yell that. "It's because I love you, you idiot!" That one sentence that seemed to have ended you entire life.

Suddenly silent, he walks out, and the room goes from deafening to deathly quiet.

It doesn't take much longer for you to crumble to the floor, tears running down your face. You're usually much, much stronger, but you don't want to be strong now - you just want him to come back.

Days, weeks, months and eventually, years pass. You say you're him, you date tons of other guys, but no one makes you feel like he did. No one fights you like he did and no one kisses you like he did. No one makes you laugh like he did, and no one, absolutely no one, makes you cry like he did.

Today's the big day. Exactly two years since you told him you loved him. Two years since he walked out without a word. Two years, and all you've done is die a little inside.

That morning, you wake up abruptly from a dream in which he never left. You shake your head hoping it'll make it go away, but it doesn't. It's still there, and you remember it vividly. You like that, but you know you shouldn't. After 730 days, you should be over him. But you're not, and it doesn't feel like you ever will be.

As you get your breakfast, you think of everything you've done to get over him.

You moved to a different apartment, got new furniture, switched jobs, sold every CD you listened to with him, got rid of every single thing he ever got you, got a completely new wardrobe, and the list just keeps going.

You've done so much, but you haven't forgotten him. Not even a little bit. It's hard, isn't it? Letting go and forgetting - impossible tasks. You have a feeling you're never going to forget him. Not in one year, not five, not ten. His memory will be burnt into your thoughts forever.

The worst part is... Well, all of it as bad. But the absolute worst? You like it.

You love remembering his smile, his laugh, the way he played the guitar and the faces he made while singing. All of it - from the way it felt to run your fingers through his hair to the tone of voice he used when he tried to tell a joke. Everything.

A knock on the door startles you. You find a compact mirror in your purse to make sure you look okay. Once you fix your hair a bit, you walk to the door.

The first thing you notice are his eyes. They're brown, rich, chocolate brown. Deep and loving and expressive and oh so wonderful.

Then, you see his smile. He's smiling sadly all still somehow happy. He always had a strange but interesting smile. Not knowing what to do, you open the door a bit wider and let him in. He walks in, looking uncomfortable. You still don't know what to say, so you let him talk, but he doesn't say anything either. All he does is stand there and look at you, still smiling a little bit.

You don't know how much time passes. With him, time seems to be very flexible - you never did have a good grasp of time when you were with him. Somehow, it doesn't surprise you that things are still the same.

He starts explaining, and you watch him talk, lips moving and hands gesturing. He explains that he was shocked, speechless, then scared. That he kept hoping you'd call, but never did. That he dialed your number countless times but never pressed call.

He's talking too much, you think. You stand on your tiptoes and kiss him interrupting his rant mid-sentence. He smiles and you can feel it as you kiss.

He wraps his arms around you and you pull him closer. You were afraid of forgetting, and now you're glad you didn't.


End file.
